Everyone Looks Better in the Dark
by aghamora
Summary: "I will not be another Quinn Fabray." - - Oneshot.


She's the top dog around McKinley High. Everyone knows it, and no one challenges it. She's on top of the world, and, as far as she's concerned, it's going to stay that way until the second she leaves high school.

But she's _all alone_ on top of the world. She and Matt didn't work out, and, contrary to popular belief, she's not screwing Brittany. They're friends. She's not a dyke, even though some, who would enjoy seeing her brought as low as Quinn has been, would tell you differently. Even if she has Brittany's unfailing friendship, friendship isn't really like love to Santana.

And there's Puck. Puck doesn't mean much to her. But she's territorial, and when Mercedes and Puck decided to start dating, she wanted them to make sure that she was _not_ okay with it. She had wanted the school to know that she was not just going to stand back and be embarrassed by someone like _Mercedes_.

She's lonely.

Maybe that's why she did it. Maybe that's why she slept with Finn. Maybe she slept with him because of a powerful need to be loved by someone.

But it means nothing to him. He'd made that perfectly clear as they sat in bed together in that cheap motel. She'd taken his virginity, and it had meant nothing to him. Brittany had been wrong. She hasn't tied him to her or caused him to follow her forever. She's only pushed him away. So much for getting an inferior man and becoming head cheerleader.

She's not sure what it means to her.

She had done it to help him out. Before they had sex, he practically had 'virgin,' stamped on his forehead. She did it to help him out, and because she needed a younger guy to stay on the cheerleading squad. Real feelings had nothing to do with it.

He had done it to make Rachel jealous. Neither of them did it because they cared about each other. Quite the contrary, actually. They both moderately disliked each other. They did it for personal gain and personal gain only. It was a one-night stand with no strings attached. And they both intended for it to stay that way.

* * *

She wants to laugh.

She wants to laugh at the irony when she sees the test's result.

Finn had thought that he had knocked Quinn, when in fact he didn't. She had meant so much to him. Now, Finn doesn't think that he's knocked her up, when in fact he has. And she means so little to him.

Does that hurt?

She's not sure.

Should it?

She's not going to be another Quinn Fabray; she decides that right away. She's not going to go the Christian way and refuse to get an abortion, choosing instead to have the kid and hand it off to some childless couple and endure the humiliation of being a pregnant teenager.

She's not going to let her social status be destroyed by this. She's worked hard to get to where she is on the popularity ladder, and she is up so high now that any fall can and will be fatal.

Sleeping with Finn had been supposed to _improve_ her image.

Oh, the irony.

Again, she feels humorless laughter bubble up inside of her. It's ridiculous, almost unbelievable. This whole thing, it's ludicrous.

She's not quite sure of much at the moment, but she keeps one thought running through her head:

"_I will not be another Quinn Fabray."_

_

* * *

_

"_But I am totally not turned on by you right now."_

She utters those words before making a mad dash for the bathroom. While Puck's new hair is far from attractive, when she's about to throw up, nothing turns her on.

She hopes Puck hadn't noticed how she had been fidgeting anxiously while talking to him, trying desperately to fight the need to throw up. She'd gone away as fast as she could without raising suspicion.

Suspicion always leads to curiosity and curiosity always leads to the truth.

She leans over the toilet, worshipping the porcelain gods unwillingly. She hates it. She hates this. She hates Finn. She was only helping him and this is all it got her.

She coughs when a bitter taste fills her mouth.

Santana clutches the cold seat tightly, her knuckles becoming pale, and prays for it to end soon.

"Santana?" She hears a familiar voice as she rests her head on her arms on the toilet seat, her breathing coming in short gasps as she tries to regain the lost air. She hates how low she's sunk to. Someone like her shouldn't have to go through this. She's disgusted by her filthy surroundings, but she can't seem to summon the strength to move. Her knees feel weak.

In her haste, she realizes she had forgotten to shut the stall door behind her.

Quinn Fabray pushes the door open to reveal the great Santana Lopez crouched down by the toilet pathetically, hair messy and eyes hopeless. It's a scene she's gone through herself many times, and she understands instantly.

It wasn't so long ago that she had been where Santana is now.

The other girl swallows, but lets no emotion show on her face as she stands on shaky legs and folds her arms. Santana scowls at the sight of her.

And it's not as though Quinn's pleased with her successor as the most popular girl at McKinley High.

"Who?" Only a single word leaves her lips. She doesn't need to say more.

Santana finds it annoying that, not so long ago, Quinn had been top dog and just as bitchy as she is now. She had been a snob. Many hated her. But now she's turned all wise and shit, throwing out advice calmly like she knows what's best for everyone. Although, Santana must admit, Quinn does know about this. She's been through it too.

But she's not about to ask her for advice.

She contemplates an answer. Maybe she should tell her it's Puck's kid, just to see her horrified and betrayed reaction. It's not like it's a secret he sleeps around.

It would be amusing, but she doesn't say it. She doesn't say anything. She strolls over to the sink, splashing the cool water on her face and then drying it off with a rough paper towel. She looks at herself in the mirror. She sees a weaker, afraid girl. She frowns.

She is not afraid. She is not weak. She will not allow herself to become so.

_I will not be another Quinn Fabray._

Quinn walks a few feet away from her, hands behind her back instead of on her belly. She doesn't think she needs to draw attention to her condition right now. She breathes in before speaking softly.

"Is it Puck's?" It hurts to think of Puck having sex with other girls. Even though they aren't committed and are only living together out of necessity, it isn't easy for her to accept.

Even if he tries his hardest, he'll never be Finn. Puck's too much of a man-whore to be like Finn had been to her back when they were dating: sweet, loving, tender, faithful.

Especially faithful. He can't be faithful. He's incapable of it.

Perhaps what truly bugs her most is that he's not inferior to Quinn and can see right through her.

Finn hadn't been able to. He still can't. He takes almost everything at face value. Quinn had been the dominating force in their relationship and Finn had never protested it. But Puck does, and her lack of control annoys her. She thrives on control. It's difficult to live without it.

Santana shakes her head. She hasn't slept with him in a while. Frankly, he's been too much of a dick lately.

"Finn's?"

She'd heard about their date. It hurt a bit. No, it hurt a lot. Santana had done what Quinn had refused to do: sleep with him. Any time someone does something you wish you had done, it hurts.

Quinn knows she and Finn can never really feel normal around each other now, even if they get back together. Her betrayal will always hang in the air between them.

But they'll never get back together. He may not be over Quinn, but he'll never consider getting back with her.

Nevertheless, it hurts to know that she's slept with Finn. No, not only that she's slept with him. That she's pregnant by him.

Quinn feels something she abruptly realizes is jealously.

If she had been in Santana's position back then, carrying _Finn's_ child, how different life would be for her now. But it doesn't matter now. What's happened has happened, and she can't change it.

Even though she desperately wants to.

Santana turns around suddenly and causes Quinn to look at something other than the floor.

"_It _doesn't' matter," she hisses. Hands on her hips, she practically oozes attitude, "I'm getting rid of it." She sticks her nose in the air like the bitch she knows she is.

Quinn's face falls at the mention of abortion. She doesn't support it; she never will. She rests her hand on her growing stomach without thinking. She hopes her baby can't hear Santana's hate-filled words.

Quinn isn't sure that keeping her child was that right choice, but she's too far gone now to change things.

Would she if she could?

It hurts her to admit that she might.

The Latina can see that Quinn plans on giving her two cents about the whole situation. She doesn't want to hear it.

Santana lowers her voice.

"I will not let what happened to you happen to me," she says slowly. Quinn shifts uncomfortably under her gaze, "Ever since you destroyed your social status, I've been top dog. I'm not going to let _anything_ ruin that."

* * *

Quinn swallows as she walks up to Finn in the hallway. He's facing his locker, apparently absorbed in finding the right books for his next class, and doesn't notice her until she clears her throat. His eyes meet hers and she fidgets nervously. She feels fat, very fat.

"Finn," she addresses him hesitantly. Her voice comes out as a sort of hoarse whisper.

"Uh, hi, Quinn." An awkward silence follows until Finn decides to break it, "Can I help you with something?" She's amazed that his tone has no hint of anger in it. If she were him, she'd be furious.

Why does he have to be so forgiving? It makes her offenses seem all the more worse, makes her look even more like the bad guy.

"I… just talked to Santana a few minutes ago," she folds her arms.

_Congratulations, you've actually knocked someone up this time. _

She thinks about saying it, but holds her tongue.

Finn feels bad then, even though he knows he doesn't have to. Well, he doesn't have to feel bad about sleeping with Santana because of Quinn. He feels bad because of Rachel.

He feels _awful_ about it because of Rachel. His conscience never lets it drop. He lied to her. He's so caught up in his guilt that he almost doesn't hear Quinn speaking.

"She's pregnant Finn… and it's not Puck's." Her hand falls protectively to her stomach when she thinks of Santana's plan to rid herself of her condition.

When she does, her daughter kicks in response almost as if to say, _'don't worry, mommy. I know you'd never do that to me.'_

She'd never do it, but that's not to say she had never considered it back when she could.

Finn's eyes get wide and for a moment she thinks that maybe telling him isn't in his best interests. But he's going to find out some time, and it's better for her to tell him than someone else.

She remembers, a few months ago, telling him that _she _was with child. His expression is the same as it had been then. His mouth hangs open, and he looks like he's about to faint.

It's different this time though, she thinks while looking at him. It's Santana, not herself. She'll do things differently. Santana's far more insensitive, Quinn is sure.

Maybe she's lying, he thinks, frantic to grab onto any evidence that would show Santana's not pregnant and that this is just a nasty rumor. Maybe Quinn's lying just to freak him out. But, the reasonable part of his brain responds, Quinn wouldn't lie about something like this. Not when she's been through it herself.

She has no reason to lie. What could she gain from it?

She'll stay out of it from now on, she vows silently as he comprehends the news. She doesn't need to interfere. Santana made it abundantly clear that her advice is not required or welcomed.

"Good luck," she gulps and smiles halfheartedly before walking away, leaving a terrified Finn leaning against the lockers and running his hands through his hair anxiously.

He'll need it.

* * *

The next day after glee rehearsal, he catches Santana on her way out and asks to speak to her. Brittany gives him a bewildered look as he leads her best friend away from her, but continues out the door. She's too naïve to notice anything's wrong.

"What?" she snaps. She fearlessly meets his eyes. If he didn't know better, he'd think that nothing's wrong and that Santana's just her usual stuck-up self. But he does know better.

"I uh…I heard…" he stumbles over his words. She shifts her weight to one leg and taps her foot expectantly.

"Spit it out," she says crossly, "Quit wasting my time." He can't know, she decides. Unless…

Unless Quinn told him.

That bitch.

She was going to get rid of it without him ever knowing. It would have been easier.

_Too late._

"I heard you're pregnant," he says the words quickly, eager to let them out. He cringes after they exit his mouth. The atmosphere tenses and his eyes glance around uncertainly.

She's had to master her emotions, so her expression stays blank.

"Oh. That," she says dismissively, rolling her eyes as if he is talking about something meaningless and insignificant. She pulls her book bag on her tanned shoulders. Her face betrays no hint of feeling towards their unborn child, "Don't worry. I'm getting rid of it."

He's not sure if he's surprised.

Maybe it's better if she doesn't keep it. That sounds heartless; he knows it. But he would be a laughing stock is this ever got out. And Santana could never recover her reputation. She'd be ruined. They'd be ruined.

But he still doesn't feel that she's justified in killing a little tiny baby.

Can anyone really ever be?

"Don't you think-" he doesn't look her in the eyes until she snaps back fiercely.

"No I don't think. I'm getting rid of it and I'm not going to think about it. I don't need to anyway. It'll be gone soon enough. Why think about it?" she talks to him like she is talking to toddler protesting an unfair rule.

Finn hates how inconsiderate she's being. Sometimes he thinks he's the only person around this place that feels feelings normally.

Santana doesn't need to think about it. Or maybe, if she thinks about it, she'll reconsider.

She can't let herself reconsider.

She can't keep this baby.

She can't.

Finn's at a loss for words. She seems so convinced. She's as adamant about aborting it as Quinn was about keeping the child.

It's times like these that he wishes he were smarter.

"I just-"

"You just what, Finn? Our time together didn't mean anything. You said so," her tone and face blank, she ventures on, "It didn't mean anything to me either. So, neither does the kid." Maybe her words are true; maybe they're not. It doesn't matter now. Not to her. She's made up her mind.

"It does mean something-"

"Sure. Alright. Fine. Whatever. Bye," she rolls her eyes with a typical condescending chuckle and starts to leave.

"Wait," this time his voice is firm with what she assumes to be a fake confidence. She humors him and turns around with her eyebrow raised. He continues once he sees she's not going to ignore him, "But…it does mean something. I mean; you're havin' my kid-"

"I'm not having it Finn. I made that clear," she responds with a soothing, fake calmness that she's sure only she can feign.

"Would you just stop interrupting me!" He slams his hand down on the piano. She almost jumps at his sudden outburst.

Since when did he grow a pair?

Finn's really tired of being interrupted and pushed around. No one ever listens. He needs to stand up for himself. He's always accepted that he's simply not as sharp as other people, but he's tried of it.

He needs her to hear him out.

She circles the piano with a hand on her hip saucily. She looks at him up and down before taking a seat on the instrument. He looks so scared to stand up to her. She grins.

She's always happy to know she has the upper hand.

"Yeah, I said it meant nothing to me but now it's not nothing anymore. I mean, I just…Can't we think about this together or something?" He musters up the courage to actually look at her this time. When he does, he regrets it. He takes a seat on the piano bench.

She hasn't taken anything he's just said to heart, he can tell. Her expression hasn't changed. She doesn't care if he objects.

Santana actually laughs aloud at him.

Together. Like they're a couple. Like they mean something to each other. Like they didn't sleep together for personal gain.

"Together," she stops smiling only seconds later. It's funny, but she's not really in the mood for laughter, "Don't you understand Finn? You'd be a laughing stock and my status around here would be ruined. It's a small sacrifice for saving my popularity. Besides, Rachel wouldn't want to date you, would she?" Santana cocks her head to one side knowingly while awaiting an answer. She knows she's right. She's always right.

He cringes.

She's right. Rachel would stay away from him like she has in the past, when Finn and the rest of the school thought Quinn was carrying his baby. But soon after the truth came out, she'd jumped upon the opportunity to date him.

Now, however, she'd think it wrong to date a guy who's having a baby with someone else. She's just that way. They couldn't be together.

Rachel can't find out about this.

He's starting to see Santana's side of the argument.

Timidly, he opens his mouth to speak again. His voice comes out sounding scared as hell. He doesn't try to pretend he isn't. He focuses his eyes on the keys as he talks.

"W…when?" His stricken, pale expression would make anyone without an iron resolve crumble.

"Tomorrow," she answers. Her voice is unwavering. She doesn't look scared.

He figures that's because she's already made up her mind. Making up one's mind is always the hardest part of any decision, because when you have yet to make a final choice, you can still be swayed.

He needs to make up his damn mind.

Finn doesn't really want to agree. He knows it's wrong to kill their innocent kid. It's never done anything wrong other than be conceived during a loveless affair, and that isn't its fault. But Santana's determined to rid herself of it.

He isn't sure he can do anything to stop her. Try as he might, he knows she'll always end up winning any argument regarding it. She has a sharper wit. He's a bit slow when it comes to things like that.

Besides, it's her body. It's not his. He can't make the decision for her, he realizes suddenly. The child's growing inside of _her_, and if she wants it out, then there's nothing he can do but object to it.

He knows that even objecting won't move her. He can tell that she's steeled herself for any more of his feeble objections. No one can change her mind. She's hell-bent on it.

_Maybe she thinks it's only affecting her._

That's not true.

"Bye Finn," he doesn't really hear her as she walks out of the room and down the hallway, caught up in his thoughts as he is. He stares off into space, his facial expression distant.

Why the hell did he just do that? Why didn't he object? He's so confused. Dumb people like him aren't prepared to deal with this kind of shit. The difficult things in life should be left to those who are capable of dealing with them.

He's like a magnet for confusing things. Quinn's pregnancy, Quinn's betrayal…and Rachel.

Rachel's confusing beyond belief. He needs a dictionary just to understand what she's saying half the time. But her vocabulary isn't all that bewilders him. She's so complex. And for some reason, she's in love with Jesse. Why, he has no clue. Now she has Finn chasing after her instead of the other way around. She's got him desperate, desperate enough to sleep with Santana just to lose his virginity and make her jealous.

And look where that's gotten him.

It's been a lose-lose, not a win-win.

He remembers back to a time when he needed to get a shot at the doctor's office. He was about eight. The doctor had been nice enough, and his mother was there to comfort him, but he had been absolutely horrified of shots. He still is. He remembers his mother saying softly, _'It's all right. Just close your eyes and it'll all be over soon.'_

Maybe he should use this technique here. Maybe he should let her do it, should let the shot be administered. It won't be the end of his life.

But it'll be the end of a life that's never gotten to see the world, never gotten to draw breath.

Their child.

He feels weird saying it. How can he be sure it's his? Oh God, if he has to go through the embarrassment of that again, then he's not sure he can survive.

_You're worrying about being embarrassed when your own child's life is in danger._

Santana has no reason to lie to Finn. If she told Puck, not much of anything would be any different, as she's already decided on aborting the pregnancy. He's sure that Puck would take her decision better than he has. Maybe it would have actually been _better_ if Santana had lied to Puck.

He's not really sure where he stands on the whole abortion issue. He doesn't have many opinions on politics and shit like that. He leaves it to smarter people. And besides, the issue of abortion has never personally affected him before. He knew it existed, but he never formed a point of view on it.

"Why the hell does this stuff always happen to me?" he thunders to an empty music room. He doesn't cry, but he kicks something and isn't sure what it is until he hears the crash of a cymbal. He's kicked the drums over. Sheer confusion has turned into confused anger. If he was a little less furious he'd probably at least bother to set them back up, but he continues to take his anger out on the drum kit. He kicks a hole in one of them. He isn't sure which. He's not looking. He knows he's acting like a child. He doesn't care.

"Why?" The school's deserted by now; he's sure. No one can hear him. No one cares to hear him.

He can't make her choices for her. He can't change her mind.

He'd said their time together had meant nothing. But now that there's a life involved, it means everything.

He can't make her reconsider now. It's painful but it's true.

He has to shut his eyes and wait for it to be over. And then he has to pick up the pieces and go on.

Can he stop her?

He's not sure.

He has to try. He won't object outright; he'll do it subtly. Maybe he can make her see that her popularity isn't more important than the life of a child.

Maybe he can't.

But he has to try.

* * *

The bell rings. Students file out of classrooms and pour into the main hallway like a swarm of insects with a singular goal: get home. Santana leaves her classroom and runs into a freshman, who apologizes for the collision profusely in the hopes that Santana will leave her alone. She slings a few nasty words at the poor, mortified girl before continuing onward.

She can't let others think she's becoming weak and losing her nerve, and if she had just let the girl go, the others would have suspected something's wrong with her.

Suspicion always leads to curiosity and curiosity always leads to the truth.

"Santana!" She hears a voice call her name from a distance, "Hey, wait up!" She turns around reluctantly and sees Finn dashing towards her. He looks like he's been running all over school trying to find her, what with his flushed face and slowing pace.

She could keep walking. If she started running, he'd surely never catch up to her. But she stops. She has to make him quiet down.

"What?" she hisses quietly. She doesn't want a rumor started about them. She'd wanted it at first to improve her popularity, but now she just wants to forget the whole, ill-fated affair.

"I, uh, I want to come with you." She's always seen him as a scared little boy. Especially now, looking at her with his arms hanging at his sides and a pitiful gaze on his face as he is. He still looks like a virgin to her. Perhaps even more than he did before.

Funny, she thinks. He'd looked all right in the dimly lit motel room. Handsome enough. Then again, everyone looks better in the dark. But he hadn't _sounded_ like a virgin. As their bodies had moved together in the dark in near perfect rhythm, he hadn't looked or sounded anything like he does now.

She'll never tell anyone, but he had been the best person she's been with in a while.

Yet, sleeping with him didn't change things. And it _won't_ change things. Not for her. It obviously didn't help him at all either. Their affair was bound for failure.

She folds her arms, carefully avoiding grazing her toned stomach.

She's tried to avoid touching her stomach since finding out about the kid. She doesn't want to get attached to it. She knows that she's just going to get rid of it.

Why start caring about something you know you can't keep?

"_Why_?" she asks disbelievingly, brushing her dark hair out of her face. She doesn't understand. If he's so opposed to the whole thing, then why would he want to come with her to get it taken care of? Santana looks at him distrustfully with eyes trained to detect things out of the ordinary.

He must have an ulterior motive, she decides finally. Nearly _everyone_ in the world does things because of an ulterior motive. It's the way the world works and she knows that not even someone like Finn is an exception.

"I just want to be there…when it…happens," he forces the painful words out choppily. He looks like it's actually causing him physical pain to speak the words, and she thinks of how much of a goody-two-shoes he is. He's too sensitive. He needs to toughen up or he'll be pushed around all his life.

Heaven knows she's toughened up. She's had to.

She rolls her eyes.

"You know, you're not going to convince me to keep it." She isn't blind. She can see what he's doing. Finn may be stupid enough to think that she's oblivious to his motives, but she isn't. She can see straight through him like cellophane.

"I'm not trying to. I just want to be there…please." She scoffs and eyes him critically.

"Whatever. Fine. Come on. I'm leaving now," her voice is bitter and she doesn't try to make it sound otherwise. She starts walking out the door and doesn't look at him as he walks beside her. She'd rather ignore his irritating presence.

* * *

She doesn't talk to him in the car. She locks her eyes on the road and does not take her eyes off it.

She doesn't talk to him when they get out of the car. They walk into the clinic silently with Finn trailing behind her, dutifully, like a puppy.

Eventually, she does talk to him in the waiting room.

"Cut it out," she says sharply, annoyed by his bouncing knee that he's been moving uneasily since they got there. It's a habit he's had since he was little and he's never been able to break it.

His uneasiness makes her mad.

Why is he nervous? She's the one getting the abortion. Not him. He doesn't have to worry about getting a botched abortion and being internally screwed up or something like that. She folds her arms, crosses her legs, and exhales in an attempt to calm her anger. She doesn't want to draw more attention to herself.

Several of the people there are women who are surely over eighteen. She's the youngest one there and almost every pair of eyes in the room are on her. It's unnerving her.

His presence here is also making this harder. It shouldn't be, but it is. She's trying to ignore it all, but she's not succeeding.

Now is his chance, Finn decides with finality. He has to say something now or she's going to go in and do it, and he'll have just sat there and let her do it without even trying to stop her.

"Are you sure that-"

"I don't know how many times I'll have to tell you that I'm getting rid of it before it gets through your _thick head. _I'm not going to humor you any more." She's successfully shut him up, and she goes back to flipping through a magazine. He rubs his palms together fearfully. It didn't work. He's about to try again when a new voice breaks the heavy silence in the room.

"Santana Lopez?" a woman calls her in. She stands up. She knows everyone's eyes are surely on her now. She takes a deep breath and raises her head high. She has to maintain her dignity. She's not going to break down.

She's the great Santana Lopez. She's not afraid of anything.

Yet, she can't stop her legs from shaking or her heart from thumping wildly in her chest. Her resolve is weakening rapidly.

Finn spies his chance.

"Santana?" he says. He stands, bringing himself to his full height as if he is going to follow her. But he does not take a step. She turns halfway away from the door to face him. He looks at her terrified eyes, and he almost wants to comfort her. He feels bad that he's going to make her feel worse, but this is his last chance, "Ar-are you sure you want to do this?"

She's scared. She's actually going to admit it. Why bother denying it?

Go in pregnant and come out not pregnant. That's all she has to do. It's not hard.

She'd been so sure.

No. She _is _sure.

She _has_ to do this.

She feels like crying, but she swallows the lump in her throat and meets his pleading eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure."

She walks in.

* * *

Finn's not sure how long the procedure takes, but he waits for her. The minutes tick by. They feel like hours. For the first few minutes, he holds fast to the hope that she'll come running out of the room and out of the clinic and refuse to return. But when the minutes turn into an hour, he gives up that hope.

If she were going to decide not to do it, she would have done it by now. She's going through with it.

Still, he waits for her. He won't leave.

He sits down. He stands up. He paces. He fidgets. He can't sit still. He tries to read the magazines, but the words blur together and are illegible to him. He stares at the clock. Although he tries to see the minute hand move, he never succeeds. He's always looking at something else when it moves. He's sure it's moving impossibly slow. Or fast. He can't tell. Time is blurring together. He's not sure if it's been a minute or an hour since she went in.

Why does it matter? All he knows is that there are doctors in there taking the life of his child without a feeling of remorse.

He had been keeping track of the hours, but after about the third, he stops. It's like it's impossible for him to think about anything other than Santana.

Santana when they slept together, with her body moving in perfect harmony with his as though they had been doing it their whole life. Santana when she told him she was getting rid of their kid. Santana when she snapped at him and ordered him to stop fidgeting. Santana when she walked into the room with the nurse and didn't look back. He can't think of anything else.

He puts his head in his hands.

Still, he waits for her.

And then, she comes out. He's staring at the clock, trying hard to see the minute hand changing, when it happens. She's walking fast, faster than he's ever seen anyone walk without running.

Her face is devoid of emotion. She looks as if she is in a sort of trance.

She walks out the door and doesn't even acknowledge him.

"Santana, wait!" he has to run to catch up with her. She keeps walking, and he doesn't really know where she's going.

They don't stop until they reach the back of the building. There isn't a soul in sight save for the two of them. The chilly air whips around them and blows Santana's loose hair in her face.

"Wha-" he doesn't get to finish his word when he is interrupted.

She looks at him with glassy eyes full of regret.

No one, not even a stranger, will be allowed to see Santana Lopez cry.

Santana wishes she hadn't done it.

Before he knows it, the great Santana Lopez is weeping in his arms, pouring her heart out and clinging to his shirt desperately. She hasn't cried in so long that it seems almost alien for her to be showing emotion so openly. And to Finn, of all people. He holds her without speaking. It doesn't feel weird to be here with her like this.

He doesn't know why.

Santana is almost unaware of his presence. She knows she's in someone's arms but she doesn't know whom. She's just grateful for the support.

She wishes she hadn't done it. She was stupid. She had thought that she_ is_ her popularity, that without her status, she doesn't matter to anyone. Without it, she thought she was no one.

But she doesn't think like that any more.

For the first time in about a month, she consciously touches her stomach. Then she breaks into a fresh set of tears.

She just keeps silently reminding herself that she did it for the best.

* * *

When she is promoted to head cheerleader, she reminds herself that she did it for the best.

* * *

When she sees Rachel and Finn together, she reminds herself that she did it for the best.

* * *

When Quinn's baby, a beautiful daughter she calls Elizabeth, is born, she reminds herself that she did it for the best.

* * *

When she leaves for college with a full ride to a good school, she reminds herself that she did it for the best.

* * *

When she sees Finn years later, happily married with a family, she reminds herself that she did it for the best.


End file.
